


Catching Fire

by thilesluna



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: FAHC, M/M, NOT A DETECTIVE, Slow Burn, WHAAAAT, aLSO THIS STARTED AS A GIVEAWAY PRIZE, b c who am i if i don't, here i am in fucking hell, i'm sure the sex will happen later, it's fine, it's good, leave me here to die, look who it is again, lunael hell, miles is a crew leader, with another fucking slow burn 'how they met' lunael fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10054397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilesluna/pseuds/thilesluna
Summary: This is the story of how Michael Jones and Miles Luna came together and made the world catch fire. (Slow burn, gang war stuff)





	

If Michael Jones is fire, Miles Luna is gasoline and the two of them together is enough to make the world burn to ashes.

They meet as many do in Los Santos, on either side of a gun—but we'll get to that in a minute because it would be getting ahead of where _this_ story starts.

\-----------

Michael Jones grows up in suburban as fuck New Jersey. Not the Jersey that smells weird or the anywhere near the shore, but the Garden State part of Jersey. It's quaint and nice and his parents have a big house built perfectly to suit their family and Michael _hates_ it.

He's wants too much for a small town like the one he's from. From the moment he could walk, he's always been going, going, going. His father doesn't get it but his mother watches with a glint in her eyes because she sees so much of herself in her son. So she signs him up for any and everything she can. First it's gymnastics (not great) and then soccer (worse), then football (better), and even boxing (she's proud of herself on that one because he _loves_ it and goes on to compete).

He scrapes by in high school--his mom demands passing grades in order to earn boxing--and does a little better at the local community college but everything still feels so _small_. He gets into fights, comes home with bruised knuckles and black eyes and a grin like the Cheshire Cat.

He saves his money, kisses his parents goodbye and hops in his car to take off to Los Santos where its big and there's work and, more importantly, adventure.

The first time he fires a gun is at a range--convinced by his new friend Gavin. He doesn't know it at the time but it's an interview of sorts because there's a man with tattoos across his knuckles two stalls over who watches the smile curl and steadiness of his hands. The Fake AH Crew hires him the next week.

Michael loves every second he spends with the crew. It's hard work and he learns more in the first week than he did in all four years of high school. He figures out quickly that explosives are his favorite (which honestly, isn't a surprise because his favorite class was always chemistry) and that the crew is much more than they seem.

For all that Geoff is the figurehead, it seems like Jack, a tall woman with fire-red hair and the best goddamned pilot Michael has ever seen, runs the crew just as much. He learns from Gavin that they started the Fakes years and years ago with just the two of them. Gavin is...odd, but Michael makes a connection right away. The two of them never really fit in at home and somehow ended up here.

They add Ray for a little while and then Ryan—the Vagabond turns out to be not that scary but incredibly terrifying at the same time? Michael's not really sure how it works but it does—and then Ray leaves. It sucks and Michael blows up a building in mourning but they move on and in comes Jeremy—they get on like you wouldn't believe, especially when Michael finds out Jeremy is an east coast boy too.

The Fakes steal, they destroy, they kill, they cause general mayhem and honestly? It's the happiest Michael has ever been.

\-----

Miles Luna grows up in Los Santos. His father's a cop and his mother is a teacher and Miles plays along with the happy family thing up to about the time when his mother splits and leaves him behind.

His dad isn't a bad guy, just doesn't have time for a 10 year old with too many questions and too much sarcasm for one body even despite the way he's started to shoot up in height. Miles spends his afternoons after school fast talking the older kids and telling stories that sometimes get him a black eye or a split lip but always gets him whatever he can pickpocket off them.

He goes to rich neighborhoods too, dresses in his nicest, best clothes and makes friends with the preppy kids, changes his voice and his cadence and fits in perfectly. The kids have so much that they don't even notice when a little goes missing and they definitely don't notice the shine in Miles' eyes when he pulls off a good take.

Miles is a fast talker with clever fingers and a smart mouth and he uses all of those things when he's 18 and his dad tells him to cut the shit or get out—Miles never did like ultimatums—and he leaves.

He spends more time than he'd like to admit living on the street and stealing just enough to get by, but eventually he meets who he calls the Blonde Bombshells though Kerry insists on arguing that Barbara is the only pretty one. They do freelance work for crews around the city. At the moment, Barb is running communications for the Cockbites and Kerry is doing....something for the FAHC (it's hard to tell with them because they're constantly all over the fucking place).

He joins up with them and starts doing some work with Burnie, the second in command of the Cockbites—"Co-founder," Burnie often grumbles— learning how to plan heists and manage crewmembers. His time with the Cockbites is great but he figures out quickly that a crew that big isn’t where he really wants to be. Barbara stays with them and he takes Kerry and they start something new.

\---------

Before they meet, the two cross paths more than once. There’s the day where Miles is casing the Maze Bank and it’s hit by the Fakes. The two don’t _meet_ but Miles sees the curly mop of hair—a little too long by Gavin’s standards but Michael likes it—and the manic grin before there’s a hole punched in the side of the building and they all scurry out through it, bags bulging with cash.

There’s a bar fight in one of Geoff’s places on a night when the lads are out drinking and Michael nearly steps in, but there’s this tall motherfucker and his friend with insane eyebrows and they seem to being doing pretty well in their 2-on-4 match. Michael appreciates a good fight and he laughs along with the wise-cracks and jokes Miles throws at their opponents. They don’t meet that night either.

It’s not even the night that RTAni and The Fakes both lend the Cockbites a hand with a rival crew. The way it works out, Miles is on the south side of the docks waiting for a signal for his team to move in on the crumbling building—they _took_ Barb and Chris and Miles is _not_ here for that bullshit. It turns out the signal is another Jones specialty. Anyone will tell you that armored cars, like the ones the rival gang has, are great but are worth fuck all when Michael Jones rigs a block of C-4 to the rear axle.

In the aftermath, Barb is hugging Miles before she takes his gun and puts half a clip into a guy on the ground and he’s focused only on her so he doesn’t see Michael shaking Kerry’s hand, old friends seeing each other again after a long time. Miles skips the celebration of inter-gang cooperation because he offers to help with clean up—it’s very satisfying to dump bodies of assholes who hurt your friends and definitely cathartic to burn all their shit into ashes.

Michael Jones and Miles Luna don’t meet until months later when Miles is just _sitting_ in Michael's apartment; stretched out on his couch like he belongs there and it takes less than the blink of an eye for Michael's gun to come free from his holster and level in that direction.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he spits out and Miles frowns because he feels like he’s seen this guy before a bunch of times—not counting the news reports, of course.

“I need a favor,” he says instead of explaining.

“Well I need you to give a pretty goddamn good reason not to fucking shoot you right now,” Michael snaps. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

Miles sighs because as much as he loves being a dramatic fuck, maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “I need your help. Kerry’s in trouble.” And _that_ gets a reaction from Michael because he likes Kerry. Kerry’s a good kid.

“He sent you?”

Miles laughs. “You think Kerry would let me do something like sneak into a FAHC members apartment and act like a damn super villain?” He’s smiling at Michael but it’s fake, sort of stretching across his face like a button up shirt that’s one size too small. He doesn’t think about the reason he’s here. He _doesn’t_ think about what Chris looked like when they got him back from that other gang all those months ago because that is _not_ what’s happening to Kerry right now.

Michael seems to get it though, he sees the way Miles is wound tight and would know that look anywhere. He saw it in the mirror last year when Ryan was missing and again on Gus and Burnie during the take down a few months ago. “Who has him?”

Miles deflates, like actually seems to shrink a few inches and he drops his gaze to the floor. In this life, sometimes emotions are weakness and he can’t be weak right now. “We don’t know. He just—someone broke into his apartment and left this—“ he stands then, thrusts a note out to Michael. It’s a little crumpled and there’s a rip on the side, but the words are clear. _This is our territory now. Get out or we kill Shawcross_. _Don’t do anything stupid._

Michael reads and rereads and he can feel Miles watching him. He sighs and hands the note back. “You don’t know who sent it?”

“No,” Miles says through gritted teeth. “We don’t even _have_ at territory. You guys and the Cockbites let us fuck around in your areas but we don’t—we’re a small crew and we like it that way. There’s no reason—“

Michael holds up a hand and Miles makes a frustrated noise, but he stops talking. “Kerry’s apartment is in Fake territory right?” Miles nods and Michael crosses his arms over his chest, considering. “Okay, then we’re going to sell this to Geoff as someone moving in on our territory and going after an affiliated gang. I mean, shit, Kerry did work for us in the past so it’s not even really a lie.”

“I don’t want you guys to have to get involved—“

“Well you’re doing a great job with that considering you’re in my apartment,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “Why are you here anyway? Why me?”

Miles can’t seem to meet his eye once again but Michael lets the moment hang, lets the silence fill the room until it’s almost unbearable. He’s about to speak when he sees Miles’ shoulders shrug slightly. “He always told me how great you guys were. Talked a lot about you and I—jesus, I don’t know. He’s my best friend! You were the first person I thought of and so here I fucking am.” He’s not slumped in on himself anymore, he’s standing tall in the middle of Michael’s living room and Michael suddenly sees how the RTAni crew has made it this far.

He’s imposing as hell.

“Alright then,” Michael says and Miles blinks.

“Alright then?” he asks, sounding confused. Michael wants to roll his eyes again but he hears his mother’s voice telling him that his face will stick like that someday—though if knowing Gavin for years hasn’t done it yet, it’ll never happen.

“Lets go save Kerry.”


End file.
